* * * * *
Even through the wad of cloth stopping her mouth, Isobel tried to scream. The panic welling up inside of her needed to escape from somewhere. Her fingers scrabbled at the arms of the chair and she pulled hard against her bonds.
He is going to kill me. I will die here in whatever this horrible place is. This man is going to kill me.
The cloth in her mouth was in danger of choking her as she tried to gasp for breath and she’d rubbed her wrists raw with struggling against the ropes. But her struggles weren’t getting anywhere. She had to think of something else. And calm down. She attempted to breathe through her nose as she considered what she should do.
For the past hours, Isobel had been hoping that this was all a nightmare. But the unmoving lump of the body in the corner had shattered that hope. She tried to damp down the panic that wanted to rise.
Now the mad man stood frozen, as if waiting for someone to burst into the room and catch him. Surely someone had heard that shot, Isobel thought. But then, judging by the room she was in, she wasn't sure that anyone was around. And if they were, they might not even care.
Where were they? For hours now she'd been in this room tied to this chair. It was dark, with only one candle burning by where they'd come in. As her eyes had adjusted, she'd been able to make out that the room was fairly large, almost the length of two normal rooms. It was almost empty, with only some odd bric-a-brac here and there. Perhaps a disused inn or public house.
She had not heard any movement close enough to be in the same building. And she had listened very carefully, hoping that someone would suspect something and rescue her. But there had been nothing but some shouting – how long ago now she did not know – that sounded very far away. Isobel was not surprised that there was no reaction to the shot that had just rent the night air.
She was alone with a mad man. Somehow she knew that her last viable option for help had just been shot and now lay dead on the floor. Perhaps later she would have time to mourn the man, but not now. Now she must think.
She knew that the man in front of her was capable of the most vicious act of violence. And he had done it so casually! That was the most frightening part of it all. One minute he was talking of money and the next minute he had committed a murder.
And she did not even know the man's name. I will die because of an insane person without a name. Tears threatened to start. No, she must compose herself. The man was mad, yes, but he was not stupid. Nor was he susceptible to emotional pleas or any sort of reason, it seemed. Until she found out what he wanted, she would need to be as calm as possible. She’d seen what happened when the man got upset.
Isobel composed her face again just before the mad man turned around and started to laugh. He approached her.
“Do you think I was too harsh on him?” The laughter sent an evil chill down Isobel's spine. “To bring me the wrong woman and then demand payment? No. I could not tolerate that.” The man clearly did not expect any answers from her. He was more interested in hearing himself speak.
“So, now I am stuck with Miss Isobel Masters instead of her sister and I shall have to make the best of it. Of course, Lord Revere – if he has decided to come – should already be on his way.”
Lord Revere! One of the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Of course, if the mad man had wanted Cat, he perhaps had some plan for getting to Lord Revere, but why? Isobel wanted him to speak. It gave her something to concentrate on, and if she learned about him, maybe she would have something to negotiate with when the time came. Whatever that time might be.
“Do you think that Lord Revere will rescue you?” He cocked his eyebrow at her as she nodded her head. “Truly? You think he would? The man is made of cold metal inside.” The last was said with a snarl.
Her captor leaned down to her face. “What makes you think he would come for you?” Of course, she could not answer. The mad man continued. “That damn man laughs at everything around him. He cannot be serious or understanding of anyone.” He was discoursing to himself again, but Isobel listened carefully.
“He was not understanding of me. He laughed at me, at my loss. Could not be bothered to help spare my dignity even as he stole from me my inheritance.” He had paced to the opposite end of the room and turned back to face her. Could Miles have stolen something from this man? Would Lord Revere do something like that? Isobel could hardly believe it, did not want to believe it of the man she loved.
Love? The word had come to her mind unbidden. And yet she knew it to be true, but how could she even think of that that now? She had run into the night because her feelings had been in such turmoil over the embrace they had shared. She had been scared of what that embrace had meant. And now to discover that she loved him. Even in the midst of all this. She could not wrestle with that thought now. Besides, the mad man was speaking again. And this time he was addressing her.
“Miss Masters, do you know what that bastard Lord Revere did to me?” She shook her head. Talk, please keep talking. If he was talking, maybe he would not be thinking about killing her or Miles.
“Of course you do not. I doubt even he remembers what he's done. But I remember. Oh yes. He stole my inheritance from me at the card table. Plucked up all my cash and then took everything I had stashed away to support me. He took it all. And then he laughed at me.” Isobel watched the man, who was moving closer to her again, as his lip curled into a sneer. “He laughed at my misfortune. Sat across the card table and had a good laugh about it all with his friends.”
Oh God, thought Isobel. All of this was over a social cut and a card debt?
He paced back to where she was. “The bastard is made of nothing inside. He has no heart to care for anyone but himself. He did not even turn around to say, 'Thanks for the money, Davenport.' No, he just walked away as if he spent his every evening divesting young men of their money. He probably does, at that. But he made a mistake when he took everything from me.”
Davenport. He had a name now, little good that it might do her.
“So now I have planned to take everything from him.” Davenport started to laugh again. It was an evil sound that boded no good for Miles.
“Do you want to know what I plan to do, Miss Masters?” She nodded her head. Keep him talking. And if he revealed his plan, so much the better. Maybe she would be able to do something.
“That is the beauty of it!” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I hardly know what I will do. Just like a game of cards, I will do what I feel in the moment. It will be the luck of the draw.”
Isobel closed her eyes for a moment so that he would not see the fear that had once again bubbled up inside of her. Dear God. He had planned a kidnapping without any idea of what he wanted to get out of it. And he had proved that he was capable of killing a man at the slightest provocation.
Miles was going to die tonight. She suddenly felt certain of it. No matter if he promised to negotiate, Isobel had seen enough of Mr. Davenport to know that he would change his mind in an instant. And Miles had no idea what he was walking into.
“Listen!” Davenport suddenly exclaimed and stood up straight. Isobel opened her eyes to see him stopped in the middle of the room, an almost beatific grin dawning over his face. “A carriage! Our dear Lord Revere must have arrived! Time for us to go!”
Davenport moved toward Isobel, stashing the gun away in his pocket. He began to untie the ropes from her feet.
“Now, be a good girl and cooperate and I might spare your life and his. Understand?” Isobel nodded and did not move. She was patient as he unbound her ties but left her mouth plugged with the old cloth. When she was free and standing still, he pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it at her again. Isobel tried to stay calm as they moved out the door and into the alleyway behind the building.
Chapter 17
“Hello?” Miles called. The faded sign over the doorway showed a crown and ring, but the public house looked deserted. Had they come to the right place? Miles climbed down f
rom the carriage. He and Jack had driven here alone, unwilling to put any of their grooms in danger.
Jack stepped out after him and asked, “Is this the right place?”
“Stay here. I’m going to find out.”
“But…” Jack protested.
“Jack, please. I cannot risk your life. I could not face mother again… not after Wesley. Please stay here. You will hear me shout if I need you.”
“Fine.” Jack was clearly not pleased. But Miles didn’t care. Whatever happened to tonight was his fault and he could not bear having to tell his mother Jack had been hurt, or worse.
“Hello?” Miles tried the door, but it did not move. Jack pointed toward an alleyway next to the building. Miles moved toward it. As he stepped into the alley, Miles saw a faint light at the opposite end. “Hello?”
“Come on alone!” shouted a male voice from the shadows at the opposite end.
“I am alone!” Miles could not keep the anger out of his voice. It thinly masked the fear that was creeping up on him. This was real. Where was Isobel and what had this man done to her?
Miles walked slowly toward the light at the end of the alleyway. It grew brighter as he approached and he was able to make out a lumpy form.
But with the next step he wished to turn and run away from what he saw. Fear and despair and anger all hit him with the force of a blow. He nearly doubled over from the feel of it.
The lumpy figure was actually two figures, one in front of the other. There, at the end of the alleyway, stood Isobel, still in her red ball gown. And behind her was a face he only dimly remembered. The man held Isobel around the neck with his right arm and a gun to the left side of her head. Isobel's arms hung limply at her side. She was not fighting. Oh God, what had he done to her? Miles wanted to rush to her side immediately. But before he could, the man spoke.
“Stay where you are and drop your weapon.”
The command made Miles clutch more desperately to his pistol. He hesitated.
“Do not test me. Drop the weapon or I shoot your lovely Isobel in the head.”
The clatter of the gun on the stone beside his feet made Miles wince. The noise seemed too loud. He feared it would set off the man in front of him.
“I have dropped my weapon. What do you want? Your note said nothing of your demands.” Miles hoped the man could not hear the desperate tone in his voice. Now that he had no weapon, all he had was words to try and protect Isobel. And even then he knew that he could not get to her in time to prevent the man from shooting her if he wanted to.
“What do I want? You should guess.” There was bitterness in his voice.
“How can I guess what you want?”
He knew immediately that he had said something wrong. Fear washed over him as the man jerked Isobel forward. Miles moved toward her, but was stopped when the man pointed the gun at him.
“Stay, Lord Revere. I mean it or your friend will die.” When Miles ceased moving, the man put the gun back to Isobel.
Die. Miles did not allow himself to panic. “So it is money that you want?” Anything to keep him talking.
“Money? That isn't the half of it.”
“Then what? What is bad enough that you hold Isobel hostage for it?” Miles’ anger broke out of him.
“Isobel, hmm? Are you on such intimate terms with the lady? And here I thought I had the wrong woman.” The man was clearly enjoying making Miles suffer. But as much anguish as he was in, how much more must Isobel be suffering at the end of that gun? And who knew what had happened to her before he had arrived. Miles shuddered and tried not to look at her. The sight would only make the panic boil higher.
“Isobel and I are friends, yes.”
“Then it appears that I shot my idiot in vain.” The man mumbled so that Miles almost didn't hear him. What man? Had he already killed someone tonight? Miles was growing desperate and weary of this game.
“It is time to stop playing games and tell me what you want.”
“Now, now. Who is the one holding the gun here? You will play by my rules or you will not play at all. You took my inheritance.”
Miles held out his hands in supplication. “I will gladly give it back to you. Or any sum you desire. Just let Isobel go...” Miles stepped toward them.
“Stop!” Davenport roared and yanked Isobel back a step. Miles saw her wince as the gun barrel dug into her temple. Miles saw now that her mouth was stopped with some kind of cloth. He saw her blink a few times and tears ran down her face. From fear or pain, Miles did not care. He only knew that she was in trouble and he must do something now. He took another step forward.
“I told you to stop!” Davenport roared again.
“Just tell me what you want.” Miles spoke in a calm voice, intent on soothing Davenport's anger. “Is it money? Another match at cards? I can give you anything...”
“I don't want your money.”
“Then what? Please just tell me.”
The only answer to his plea was a low chuckle that echoed ominously around the small alleyway.
Chapter 18
With all her might, Isobel willed Miles to stop moving toward them. He must stop or he would die. She knew it in the very fiber of her being. She had spent hours with the mad man and she knew that no logic would reach him. Just an hour ago she had watched him kill a man for no reason other than the fact that he had kidnapped the wrong woman.
No, Davenport was only out for revenge. And Miles was his target. At the moment he was only playing like a cat with a mouse. Isobel was desperate for it to stop, but she saw no way of getting free.
And yet there was no way to tell Miles any of this. No way to communicate with him that bargaining would not help. Neither would his antagonizing Davenport as he seemed to be doing now. She knew it came from the desperate desire to do something, to provoke some action from the man. It was a feeling she felt boiling up inside of her, too. But it was a dangerous game.
“I told you to stop!” Davenport's voice rattled through her brain. He was so loud and commanding.
“Just tell me what you want.” Isobel heard the soothing tones in Miles' voice and despaired of him. He did not understand the man. His soothing tones would not work. “Is it money? Another match at cards? I can give you anything...”
“I don't want your money.” As he snarled the words, Davenport shoved the gun even harder against her head. The metal of the barrel had warmed against her skin. The pressure, though, was becoming unbearable. It felt as if he wanted to shove the gun through her skull rather than shoot her with it. The man had started to chuckle even as he did so.
Through the pain she heard Miles say, “Then what? Please just tell me.”
Nothing would work, Miles must see that. He must stop or he would die. The only man she’d ever kissed would die. Because she did not do anything. She could not face it.
Davenport spat at Miles. “I want nothing from you!”
“Then why are we here?” Miles practically yelled at him. The sound echoed around the quiet alleyway. Isobel wished someone were near to hear them. She wished that someone would come to rescue them, someone to distract Davenport long enough that they could get the gun away. Isobel clenched and unclenched her hands. They had been hanging limply by her side for so long that she felt they might not work when she needed them. So she tested them. They tingled as blood flowed back into the muscles.
“We are here to punish you, Revere!” screamed Davenport. In his anger, he released some of the pressure on her. If she pushed hard, if she distracted him, Miles would have a chance to get away. Isobel breathed deeply, trying to steel herself for what she must do.
“Punish me, then! But let Isobel go! Please!” She could hear that Miles was desperate now, but Isobel was glad to see that he had stopped moving toward them.
“Don't you see that this is your punishment? Though I had wanted her sister, your betrothed, Isobel Masters has worked out quite nicely. You care about her. So she is the perfect leverage to keep you here and
under my thumb for as long as I want.”
Miles fell silent. Isobel understood that he had finally realized there could be no negotiating with Davenport. Something else would have to happen. That something else would be very dangerous for both of them. Davenport would not give up easily. But neither would she.
She was pressed close enough to his body, had been that way for such a long time, that she had begun to recognize his movements. Even as they remained silent, Isobel could feel the decision coming to Davenport. He was bracing for something. And Isobel feared it would be bad. She must take some action.
“Please.” Miles took another step forward.
She felt Davenport go rigid. His arm tightened around her neck.
The panic rose up in her throat. She wanted to call out, tell him to run.
Miles took another step. Davenport leveled the gun at his chest.
Please, Isobel thought. Stop moving. Stop.
I love him. The words came easily. She felt calm. Somewhere between the torment of her nickname and the kiss that had heated her tonight, her mind had changed completely about this man. And now he was in danger because of her stupidity.
In a swift motion, Isobel pushed her hands back against Davenport and ran forward as hard as she could. She had enough momentum to break free of his hold. For a blissful moment she saw only Miles in front of her. She was almost free.
A shot rang out.
The world around her went black.
Chapter 19
Miles could hear nothing but a high-pitched ringing in his head. The world narrowed to that horrible sound. He must make it stop soon or his skull would explode.
Miles inhaled deeply. His lungs had forgotten how to function. He could feel damp earth packed hard beneath his knees. They were beginning to ache with the pressure. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to clear away the blackness.
Another painful expansion of his lungs brought no relief. Through the ringing, Miles thought he heard shouting. He tried to remember where he was and what was happening.
The Wrong Woman (Unexpected Love #1) Page 11